


The Mechanics of Submission

by rispacooper



Category: Criminal Minds
Genre: Child Abuse, Deepthroating, Dom/sub, Dominance, Drunk Sex, First Time, M/M, Porn, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-03-22
Updated: 2012-03-22
Packaged: 2017-11-02 09:05:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,275
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/367302
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rispacooper/pseuds/rispacooper
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>booze, porn, hidden feelings. </p><p>Despite the title and the tags, it's not really as kinky as it seems. Or maybe it is? I can't tell anymore. Internet has broken me.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Mechanics of Submission

**Author's Note:**

> For dlasta, who wanted non-soggy kitten!Reid and some deep throating and gentle dominance. (Can’t believe I *just* added cockslut to my Word dictionary)

_Pornography is about dominance. Erotica is about mutuality._

_Gloria Steinem_

 

The sound of two people vigorously fucking was coming from the TV. Spencer couldn’t see the images because Morgan’s body was blocking his view, but he had seen this movie before and could time the breathy moan from Jason to the exact moment when Raoul turned him over to get his ass up higher in the air. Jason’s leather restraints didn’t allow for much mobility but he struggled to stay up on his knees anyway, panting mindlessly as Raoul thrust back into him. He squealed a little, Jason, either because he wasn’t used to big cock or because he was pretending not to be. 

Spencer preferred to think it was the former, though it didn’t matter, the result was the same; Raoul was going to growl for him to shut his mouth or he’d shut it for him and then he’d call in Patrick, who would grab Jason’s hair and shove his cock into his mouth. 

It was Spencer, and probably Jason’s, favorite part, but Spencer wasn’t going to try to watch it now. He kept his eyes up and on Morgan’s face. It took a lot, and not just because they had both freely sampled the tiny bottles of liquor in their old motel’s antique mini fridges, and not even because Jason was about to get it from both ends and Spencer was watching porn in his motel room while Morgan was in that room with him. 

It took a lot because Morgan wasn’t very glassy eyed at all and he was standing over Spencer with a conflicted frown on his face and a sheen of moisture on his mouth. He’d been drinking something brown, a turkey on the label. He’d let Spencer have the vodka. 

He’d let Spencer pick the movie. Spencer still wasn’t sure why he’d chosen porn, except it had suddenly seemed incredibly important to discuss the mechanics of submission with Morgan and he’d needed visual aids. 

It wasn’t a violent BDSM film. In fact it hardly had any bondage in it and very little pain, though Spencer hadn’t cared about that aspect to begin with. His thesis to his abruptly frozen best friend had been about Jason’s journey through the hands of various dominants and how it was really a comment about the nature of fantasy on level with “The Wizard of Oz”. 

Morgan’s reply had been so severe that Spencer shivered to think of it. 

“You watch this?” Morgan had watched Jason give a blowjob to his first master and then turned away, seconds too late to hide the intensity of his stare, to look at Spencer. 

Admittedly, Spencer had discovered the world of gay porn later than most, at least for himself and not for work, but he didn’t think it should have been that big of a surprise for Morgan to realize he watched it. But Morgan had stood up, poured himself another drink, and then left his glass alone. 

Spencer hadn’t interrupted. He’d been a little afraid to, and he’d been fascinated by the shifting realizations on Morgan’s face, but then, he always liked watching Morgan’s face. 

“You do that?” The question was almost as loud in Spencer’s memory as the first slap of the paddle on Jason’s ass, not that Morgan was saying anything now. 

Spencer opened his mouth at last, thirsty from the vodka and also nervous, and so hard that he didn’t want to move no matter how much this position was making his knees ache. 

“You don’t have to,” he said in a small voice, as small as he felt kneeling on the dirty motel carpet with Morgan standing in front of him. He would look small too, fragile and lost, with shadows under his eyes and curls in his face, his lips wet. Morgan looked him over, he looked him over the way he always did, but there was something different in his smile this time. Something sad.

“You playing me, pretty boy?” he teased in a strange, soft voice, and Spencer blinked before exhaling. He widened his eyes and Morgan shook his head, not buying it. “Drinks in your room. Porn on TV. That face of yours. That question, vulnerable and yearning and completely calculated.”

Spencer thought maybe it was the vodka that made his response so slow. 

“No, I…” _want you so much, you think I do this for just anyone?_ he tried to say. Morgan’s thumb at his lower lip stopped him. A tiny sound escaped his throat, nothing to the noises Jason was making, but Spencer didn’t care about Jason right now. 

“I’m not like those guys in the movie, Reid.” Morgan stood steady, hardly moving except for the sweep of his thumb across Spencer’s lip. Spencer wanted to lick it, taste bourbon and salt, but he barely breathed and didn’t blink. Morgan was so tall even when Spencer wasn’t open-mouthed and on his knees in front of him. 

“Gay?” Spencer wondered softly, though he knew that for Morgan it was more complicated than that. 

“I wouldn’t have to hurt you to make you mine,” Morgan murmured with something frightened around his eyes, as if he hadn’t known he was going to say it until he already had. 

Spencer couldn’t think. For one startling, random, not drug-induced moment, his brain ceased to run and he went solely on instinct. He’d never learned to trust his the way other people did, but now that mix of subconsciously noticed details and caveman cunning was giving him the memories of Morgan watching him, wanting him, and it told him to tilt his head back so Morgan’s thumb would slide further into his mouth. 

He wanted to put his hands up to Morgan’s wrist to feel his pulse and hold his hand where it was so he could practice his meager fellatio skills, but then he blinked as his brain clicked back on. He looked down and forward to Morgan’s crotch, the swollen, rigid length of his cock, to the size of it. The weight of it he could only imagine. 

He cleared his throat with effort and tried to speak with the pad of Morgan’s thumb pressing down to keep his mouth open. 

“I’m not really into pain,” he wanted to say but the weight at his lip stopped him. That thumb was making him dizzy. He focused back on Morgan, on his lips as they moved. 

“I wouldn’t hurt you.”

Repeating a phrase like that was a marker of a decision made but not committed to. Spencer’s pulse kicked and his dick twitched in his underwear. He felt sticky and trapped and there was absolutely nothing but one thumb to hold him down. 

“What would you do?” he whispered carefully, a dare, a plea in his tone, and maybe it was the vodka, but Spencer’s instincts were making themselves heard now. Morgan wanted him, he wanted this, and he could never resist making Spencer happy. 

Spencer licked his mouth and tried to look like pretty Jason as he reached up. 

Morgan flinched. For the smallest moment he flinched at the press of Spencer’s fingers to his dick, and then he pushed Spencer’s hands out of the way and undid his fly with hurried, desperate motions. He paused again, but a glimpse of his dark, flushed, gleaming cock made Spencer stretch up to close his mouth around the head. 

He swallowed instantly at the taste and then shut his eyes at the unexpected heat in Morgan’s voice. 

“Pretty boy,” he breathed, throbbing in Spencer’s mouth, _heavy_ in his mouth, hard and thick. Spencer couldn’t decipher his tone, if he was going to be rejected or used or if this was all he’d get. He couldn’t tell from Morgan’s voice so he opened his eyes. 

Morgan was shaking, fine tremors that could have been fear, but his eyes were shining. 

“You want to be mine then? Was that what tonight was about?” he asked, surprisingly gentle when Spencer couldn’t say yes or no to save himself. “I don’t need a submissive,” Morgan added, making Spencer shiver, but he still couldn’t pull away, or do anything to spare himself this embarrassment at being seen through, not with his offer already made and the brush of Morgan’s fingers across his cheek. 

For a moment Morgan’s hand stayed there, then his fingers wandered to Spencer’s mouth and lightly tapped the corner. “Open up.”

Spencer stared at him, then slowly let his lips part. Morgan’s other hand spread over his jaw, fingertips reaching a few of Spencer’s curls, his thumb in the hollow below his cheekbone. The pull was too soft to be a tug, too soft to even be a real pull. Spencer felt more cock fill his mouth and widened his eyes. 

He flailed a hand out and caught Morgan’s knees and then dropped his hand to his lap to press his palm against his pounding dick. 

He looked up. He wanted to be the delicate, pretty Reid in his fantasies, the one who got whatever he wanted, but he might have been more like hungry, cockslut Jason. Morgan’s faint smile faded. 

He stroked Spencer’s cheek and then pushed in again. Spencer wasn’t moving, he was letting Morgan move him, though his lips were already stretched wide and his throat was working, trying to swallow. Spit filled his cheeks, made his eyes water, but he thrust up into his palm and wanted to gasp when Morgan’s hand slid to his throat. The touch was gentle but Spencer still felt his blood rushing heavily under Morgan’s hand. Morgan felt it too. His breath was coming fast. Spencer didn’t think he’d ever been so hard as he was at that moment. He lifted his chin. 

Morgan was reading him. Spencer ought to be profiling him in return, but he was frozen hot, numb except for his mouth and his dick. The TV fucking seemed quiet, muted. His breathing was loud. He couldn’t swallow, not enough, but he didn’t pull away when Morgan urged him forward, urged him down, until he choked. 

Morgan stopped. Spencer stopped too, red-faced and embarrassed at his failure. Life wasn’t porn but he’d failed, somehow, to be any kind of fantasy. He was just Spencer, just Reid the socially awkward genius, even with vodka and a dirty movie on his side. 

He puffed an angry breath then stilled as Morgan’s fingers traveled back to his lips then swept up to his ear. 

“Listen to me. Breathe. It will get easier. Just breathe and look at me.” 

Spencer raised his eyes without thinking and met Morgan’s gaze. 

“Do you want to stop?” 

Spencer could only shiver at the question. Morgan’s smile was sideways but genuine, so proud of him that Spencer felt the warmth seep back into the rest of his body. He didn’t understand, not completely, but he could breathe, and it wasn’t rough when Morgan petted him, _petted him_ , and Spencer took it, all the attention that didn’t seem vaguely patronizing as it would have in the office, and that extra half inch of cock. 

It hit the back of his throat, again, and he choked, again, and then swallowed and held still and waited. He was aware of Morgan’s fingers, a feathery sweep against his cheek, reassuring, and then needier, ever so slightly, as Morgan firmed the touch. 

Spencer made a small sound. He wanted to take more, but wasn’t sure. He was hungry, but he wasn’t Jason. He reached out and held onto Morgan’s leg. Morgan gave him cock and a strong hand at his neck. “Open up, Spencer. Take it.”

Spencer gagged again, his eyes stinging, but the sound this time was a moan, not a whimper. It was the name. “Am I Spencer now?” he wanted to say out loud and was left to ask with his eyes. Morgan let out a hoarse breath and tightened his grip, just for one more second. The need he was hiding slid down through Spencer’s spine like the warmth of an opiate. 

“You’re whoever I want you to be,” Morgan answered, injected a hardness into his voice that didn’t fit with the strength he was keeping back. He took a handful of curls when Spencer groaned and grasped at him. “That’s how this works, remember? Your fantasy. I could call you whatever I want and you would take it, wouldn’t you?”

Morgan pushed in again, ignoring Spencer’s soft groan and the frantic swallows that did nothing for the drool around his mouth. Spencer felt like a mess, hot and horny, confused, but Morgan wouldn’t stop touching him, and he knew Morgan's voice when he was angry and this wasn’t it. Morgan was petting him. Spencer wanted more, and for once his brain and his instincts in perfect agreement on how to get it, or maybe that was just his knowledge of Morgan. 

“If that’s really what you want.” Morgan took that distant edge out of his voice and released Spencer’s hair. Spencer started shivering and couldn’t stop until Morgan swept that hand along his chin, wiping it clean. “Is that really what you want, pretty boy?” 

Morgan wasn’t frowning though conflict came and went in his expression before he cupped Spencer’s face. He moved, shifting his legs apart. Then he swallowed loudly and choked when Spencer hummed around his cock and then pressed in until he could hardly breathe and he was trembling. 

Morgan’s hand tightened in his hair. The movie ended somewhere behind them, but Spencer only heard his heart in his ears and Morgan sighing his name. 

 

_The difference between pornography and erotica is lighting._

_Gloria Leonard_


End file.
